Thursday, October 20, 2011

I was using the facilities and noticed the spare roll of paper towels on a shelf. The label said "Big Roll", but I read "Rick Roll"...and my mind raced with possibilities!

I could get permission (for a cut of the profits, natch) from Rick Astley and bring out a new brand of paper towels called "Rick Roll", with Astley's face on the label! I could become rich beyond my wildest dreams, all because of an internet meme!

It's getting chilly around here at night, so I've been letting my cat, Pipsqueak, stay inside. Plus, I made the executive decision to stop leaving food out for him, because I'm tired of feeding all the other neighborhood cats. Not to mention all the vermin-infested, potentially disease-laden critters who have also been partaking. Thus, if Pipsqueak wants to eat, he has to come inside.

So Pipsqueak has been spending more time indoors. It's great! He and my dogs cuddle and play, and he's an all-around super affectionate kitty.

Toss in a few mews and squeaks and you have a recipe for BROKEN SLEEP. Oh, and he occasionally plants himself on my head. And also decides to crunch his kibble in the middle of the night. While his tag clanks against the edge of the metal dish.

The final straw is that he always wants to GO OUTSIDE GO OUTSIDE GO OUTSIDE GO OUTSIDE GO OUTSIDE (aka, "MEW MEW MEW MEW MEW MEW MEW") at four o'clock in the morning.

Tired Christina is cranky Christina.

*sigh*

I'll try the earplugs tonight and hope it helps. And a cat door is in the works, then he can come and go as he pleases.

Monday, October 17, 2011

...and noticed some dirt on my sneakers. Colorado dirt, to be exact. It made me realize that a week ago I was still having a blast at Blogorado 2011, and it made me a bit depressed. We stayed so long and yet it went by in a flash.

I could go on and on about the shooty goodness, how fun it was to hear the *plink plink* of shots hitting the steel targets, or the visceral *BOOM* of the Barrett .50, feeling it reverberate in my sternum and clavicles, actually burping me like a baby. I could recount the satisfaction I felt finding a gun that really suited me (Farmmom's Browning Hi-Power 9mm), reloading the magazine over and over again, making soda fountains out of expired cans of Pepsi.

I could mention the freakish wind on Saturday, how even having bundled up didn't help much, how it sapped my energy as the day went on.

And how could I neglect to mention the fabulous costume party that night? How we laughed and laughed at both the silly and the awesome get-ups.

We celebrated Phlegmmy's and Matt G.'s birthdays with delicious cake, sassy shoes, and a manly kilt.

I even shot a varmint, making a tiny dent in the tremendous, pestilent (literally!) prairie dog population.

But what it really comes down to, what I truly miss, is being with the marvelous people there. My friends.

Sitting around the fire at night, talking, laughing, the subject veering from the ridiculous to the sublime. Several different conversations going on, and you wish you could somehow take part in every one, just so you don't miss anything.

What amazes me the most is that if you look at us objectively, individually, we honestly don't have that much in common. But by some mysterious alchemy, it becomes a beautiful brew.

So thank you, FarmFamily. You've created something incredible out in the wilds of Colorado, and we're all honored and privileged to be allowed to take part.

Saturday, October 08, 2011

SCI-FI (driver extraordinaire): If I see an 18-wheeler coming over the hill at us, there's gonna be soda and urine flying everywhere, cause I'll be tossing you the bottle and pissing myself as I try to get out of its way!

Monday, October 03, 2011

I have a colleague at my new job whom I liked immediately. He's young and friendly, yet rather cynical and curmudgeonly on occasion. He snarks about everything, yet is unfailingly helpful and hard-working. Several times after starting work there, I had moments of deja-vu regarding him, and I couldn't figure out why. We'd definitely never met before.

It wasn't until a few days later, when I was sitting in the breakroom with my back turned to a conversation he and another co-worker were having, that I realized why he seemed so familiar to me. See, he was pissed off about something and sprinkling the f-bomb liberally into his speech.

DISCLAIMER

When I write about massage clients or any patients from my clinical experience, I alter and edit plenty of details. Sometimes I conflate events/people. Sometimes I even engage in hyperbole (I MAKE SHIT UP). So if you think you recognize yourself or anyone else, YOU ARE WRONG. I do NOT EVER violate my professional ethics or HIPAA.